


Sweet Lover

by emeraldmad



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Slow Dancing, Tom Blake Lives, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldmad/pseuds/emeraldmad
Summary: “Have you ever slow-danced before?” Blake asks, grabbing Scho’s free hand and placing it on his waist. Schofield squeezes affectionately and rolls his eyes.“Afraid not.”“Well, that just can’t do,” Blake says, placing his hand on Schofield’s shoulder. “Just try not to step on me, yeah?”“Will try,” Schofield chuckles.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	Sweet Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Blakefield just keeps making me write, huh? This came onto me at midnight and I just had to, it was just too good to wait. So here it is, hope you like it!  
> Heavily inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Nothing But Thieves (and pretty much all of their music too. Seriously, listen to them). If you can listen to it while reading this, even better.

“Thanks for making lunch, love.”

Schofield raises his eyes from his empty plate to find Blake’s gaze fixed on him, full of fondness. He smiles softly. 

“You know I like to cook, it’s no big deal.”

Blake rises from his chair and leans over the table, placing a kiss to the top of his head as he takes his plate away. “Still, can’t thank you enough for it.”

He leans back onto his chair and watches Blake walk up to the sink to wash the dishes, meticulously cleaning each one before putting them up on the drying rack. The chipper song playing on the radio comes to an end, followed by a slow song that Blake starts humming unconsciously. 

“Know the song?” He asks. 

Blake nods. “Dad loved it. Every time it came on he‘d take mum’s hand and they would dance to it.”

“I take it he was quite a romantic.”

He sees Blake’s shoulders shake with a laugh. “Yeah, he loved mum a lot. And he loved dancing too, taught us since we were kids.” It seems to Schofield that the comment is just that, a small memory dear to Blake’s heart, but then Blake stiffens and turns to look at him with a face like he just had the best damn idea in the world. 

“What?” He raises one eyebrow as Blake dries his hands and walks up to him, offering him a hand with a smug smirk on his face.

“May I?”

Schofield takes his hand and stands up close to Blake, their chests brushing. Blake’s smug smirk turns into a wide grin, unapologetic, and Schofield can’t stop himself from smiling too. 

“Have you ever slow-danced before?” Blake asks, grabbing Scho’s free hand and placing it on his waist. Schofield squeezes affectionately and rolls his eyes. 

“Afraid not.”

“Well, that just can’t do,” Blake says, placing his hand on Schofield’s shoulder. “Just try not to step on me, yeah?”

“Will try,” Schofield chuckles. With that, Blake leads them away from the table into the open space of the kitchen, swaying their bodies slowly to the melody of the song. Schofield feels his heart slowing down, tuning in synch with Blake’s own, and finds himself smiling softly at the boy in front of him. 

“Maybe some of your dad’s romance rubbed off on you,” he remarks. Blake’s eyes light up and he smiles even more, if that’s possible, making Schofield’s heart swell in his chest. 

“You think so?”

Schofield leans his head down slightly to press their foreheads together, hovering a breath away from Blake’s lips. “And it’s effective, too.”

Their kiss is slow, like the music coming from the radio, and they don’t stop swaying even if they’re too busy to see where they’re going. He would give up anything for the feeling of Blake’s lips on his, the sugar-sweet taste of him, the racing of his heart. He never tires of it, doubts he ever will. 

Once they’re breathless Blake pulls apart, lacing his arms around Schofield’s neck and pressing his face to his chest, just over his heart. Schofield lets his hand fall down to Blake’s waist and settles for holding his body against him, closing his eyes as he presses his face into Blake’s freshly-washed hair and breathes it in. It smells like apricots, somehow—maybe it’s his mother’s shampoo—and something else, the scent of a distinct warm wood that he can’t quite place. He inhales it, tries his best to commit it to memory, tracing a slow path with his lips until he places a kiss to Blake’s hair. He feels Blake sigh against his chest, a small burst of air hitting his neck before Blake moves up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

The song playing on the radio has changed to another one since they started dancing, but it’s still slow and sweet. They keep swaying together in slow circles, their shadows interrupting the pattern of golden sunlight projected on the floor, and Schofield lets his mind wander. Time always seems faster with Blake, days going by with memories of wind and flowers in the backyard to contrast with the slow drag of their years at war, but right now he feels as if time has slowed down around them to give them a break, to be close and loved and quiet now that the war is over. It almost seems as if it happened years ago, too long to be memories so fresh, but after all it’s what brought them together. 

With things as horrible as they have seen, even with so much time already past, they deserve to rest. In the comfort of Blake’s arms, of Blake’s body held close against his own, he reckons they’re on the right path.

He finds himself smiling against the boy’s forehead and holds him closer, tighter, tracing circles on the small of his back as he breathes an _“I love you”_ into Blake’s skin. 

“God, you’re a sap.”

He snorts at Blake’s comment, moving away to look into his bright blue eyes. “Wonder whose fault that is.”

Blake smiles, teasing. “Who could it be, crawling into your cold heart like that?”

“Someone very stupid,” he answers, earning him a light smack to the back of his head as he chuckles. “But very charming, too.”

Blake’s cheeks flush pink at that, and he could swear Blake never looked younger. “It does take a lot of charming to get to you.”

Schofield laughs and kisses Blake intently, only lasting a few seconds before pulling away. “So humble, my lover.”

Blake’s eyes shine with mirth, and nothing makes Schofield happier than the cheeky smile he gets in return. “Well, I must get _some_ bragging rights being with you, love.”

“Is that so?”

“That so.” One of Blake’s hands slides from his neck up to his jaw, holding it as his eyes go from his lips back up to his eyes. “You’re smart, and kind, and handsome,” he mutters, accentuating each trait with a light kiss to his lips. “Oddly romantic at times, too.”

He smiles despite himself. “Can’t let you keep all the credit.”

Blake leans up to kiss him again, but with this one he takes his time. He starts at his neck, creeping up to trace the underside of his jaw before reaching his lips. Once he does they kiss fervently, Blake’s teeth holding onto Schofield’s bottom lip to drag a moan out of him before the music stops abruptly, the sound of static briefly filling the room before it quiets down and leaves them in silence, looking at each other with mild annoyance. 

“Battery gave up,” he says, and Blake rolls his eyes comically. 

“Way to kill the mood.”

Schofield laughs and shakes his head. “No, don’t think so.”

Blake raises an eyebrow at him, challenging in that boyish way so characteristic of him. “Oh yeah?”

At that, Schofield musters all his strength and moves Blake to push him against a wall, stepping between his legs as he gets close to him again. “What do you think?” 

Blake opens his mouth to offer some witty remark, most likely, but gets shut up by Schofield’s lips on his. Unsurprisingly, he gives up, snaking a hand up Schofield’s neck to latch onto his hair. 

Like this, with Blake pressed against him and melting under his touch, Schofield thinks he could live forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Brush your teeth after this or you'll get cavities. Take care of your teeth, kids.  
> But seriously, I hope you loved this as much as I do. You can find me under the same handle on Tumblr if you wanna talk about 1917, so feel free to stop by.  
> As always, kudos and comments are extremely appreciated. Thank you for reading!


End file.
